His Judas
by The Name is Unimportant
Summary: Post Things Change, Slade hunts down his former apprentice—but for what purpose? When he finds her, it certainly won't be a peaceful encounter. Slade/Terra
1. Chapter 1

A/N, Summary: Post _Things Change_, Slade hunts down his former apprentice—for what purpose? When he finds her, it certainly won't be a peaceful encounter. Story will be distinctly Slerra in later chapters.

I've used details from the _Teen Titans Go!_ comics as well as the original _Teen Titans_ comics whenever they're relevant to the story but not spelled out in the television series. Anything else is made up by me. Obviously I didn't create _Teen Titans_.

* * *

He was watching Tara Markov, trying to determine whether or not she really had amnesia. In all honesty, he wasn't sure whether she'd noticed him or not—if she had she was ignoring him very nicely. He had his fake eye in so he didn't stand out, which was a plus. Still, he preferred his eye patch. His fake eye itched.

Watching her, he'd noted a few things. She didn't like physical contact, as if she were sore. She was not using 'Terra' casually as she had before, he'd seen her wearing a name tag that said, "Tara" on one occasion.

The bell rang while he waited at the street corner. Tara was one of the first out of the school's gates. He'd been watching her for weeks, but he hadn't followed her yet. Today he would.

He tailed her at a casual jaunt that was so unlike his normal gait that he was sure no one could have possibly recognized him for who he was. Tara wove through the crowd easily due to her twig-like figure, and he had to work to keep up. In time, the buildings and shops on the streets grew to appear more and more familiar.

She ducked into an alleyway so quickly he nearly lost her.

All at once he recognized the area of the city. He hadn't been here in ages. _She wouldn't have,_ he thought to himself, realizing what was going on. But she had. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Tara slide a rusted key into a rusted door on the side of a dilapidated building. She went in, and locked the door behind her.

He waited for ten or so minutes and then went to the door, pulled out his own copy of the key, and went inside the house, barring the door and locking the locks behind him. He dropped off his briefcase at the table. The place was cleaner than he'd left it, though there were still clues that a teenager lived here. He followed a trail of shoes and socks and books to what had once been the guest room. He looked inside through a crack in the door.

There, on the bed, sat Tara Markov, listening to her CD player with her back turned to the door.

He entered, cat-like, and grabbed her from behind with one arm wrapping around her neck and the other hand covering her mouth.

"Use your powers in here and the cops will be all over you," he said before she thought to use them.

Muffled, Tara responded with a yelp of surprise.

"Quiet!" He responded in an angry hiss. "The windows are open, you stupid girl. Now, listen carefully, Tara. I will let go. We will go down to the kitchen and have a nice, quiet, _adult_ discussion."

She was shaking, but she made a small, affirmative noise. From behind he could not see her light blue eyes but he imagined they were wide. She always looked like a deer in the headlights when she was scared, he thought nostalgically. Slowly, he eased his grip. She shut the window and he saw her shudder as he grabbed her shoulder and steered her down the stairs to the kitchen and sat her at the table.

"I know you," she said with a stammer as he walked around the circular table and began unlocking his briefcase. He chuckled, and she flinched. From his briefcase he withdrew a laptop. He opened it and in front of Tara to show her surveillance footage from his lair. In the video, a blonde girl with sky-blue eyes fought a shadowy male figure with just half a face on his mask.

The girl at the table watched with interest. "She looks just like me," said Tara, still stuttering slightly. She laughed nervously.

He leaned over the table and glared at her. "It _is _you."

She said quickly, "No, that can't be—there was another guy who made the same mistake and—"

Slade Wilson slammed his fist on the table. Tara gave a tiny yelp of surprise.

He resisted the impulse to grab her throat and choke her until she told the truth. "It _is_ you, dear child, and you made a promise to me a long time ago. I don't care if you genuinely don't remember it—it's a promise you _will _keep."

* * *

A/N: I appreciate the read. Any corrections, critiques, or even compliments are welcomed and encouraged.


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't remember..." Tara said, stammering slightly. Her eyes were wide and a few tears were making themselves known. Slade was reminded of the first time they'd ever met face-to-face. Down in the mine he'd won her over. He'd taken control then and he would take control now.

"You will remember," he stated flatly. It was also an order to her, and once more he grabbed her upper arm, this time leading her to the basement. Stumbling along, the girl had to work hard to keep up with him.

She whimpered, "Please don't hurt me, I—"

"Quiet," he demanded calmly, pulling her along to the darkest corner of the room. On a shelf, behind some paint cans, there was a switch painted the same color as the wall. He hit it to reveal a concealed door that no villain's home would have ever been complete without.

Inwardly, he smiled. It was _so_ good to be home. Slade pushed Tara through the doorway and then he kicked the door shut behind them. With his free hand he popped out his fake eye—It wasn't like there was anyone around to warrant the use of a disguise. He hated that fake eye. It itched _constantly_ when it was in. Tara seemed surprised. That struck him as odd, as she had known for quite a while that his right eye had been shot out (though he'd never told her the specifics of the situation, and she wouldn't have believed him if he had) many years before. Slade could very specifically recall the first time she'd seen him without a mask. Terra—who spelled her name like the word for the Earth when she wasn't being a civilian—had asked about his eye. _I was shot,_ he'd said. He'd never gone out of his way to tell her why he'd been shot, though, or by whom.

As he suspected, the moment he let go of Tara she backed up. He watched indecision flicker in her features and guessed at what troubled her. She didn't want to be near him, but she was afraid if she went too far away he might grab her again. She found a happy medium just out of his arms' reach.

She repeated, "Please don't hurt—"

"So help me Terra, I _will_ hurt you if you say that again," he growled, pulling his eye patch out of his pocket and putting it on. Much better.

One look at her face told him that she was genuinely frightened. He knew that look well. He'd seen it before—it was an expression she used when she _knew_ she was in serious trouble. Blue eyes opened wide. Pupils dilated. Mouth slightly open with quivering lower jaw. The rage would come next.

"I don't know you!" Tara exploded on cue. "I have no idea what you're doing in my house or what this room is! Please, just let me out and no one will ever be the wiser, I swear!"

"_Your_ house?" He snapped, incredulous. "Your house? It's _my_ house! I gave you the key!"

"What? My mother gave me the key! She's on vacation, when—"

"No," Slade said with finality. "No."

"But—"

Frustrated, he told her, "Either you are lying to me or you genuinely believe that you have a mother. Terra, if this wasn't my house, do you think that I would know there was a secret lair underneath the basement?"

Her jaw dropped. Then she closed her mouth. He crossed his arms and looked at her, still asking the question with his one remaining eye.

"I don't... I don't know," she admitted finally, averting her gaze. "But my mom and I, we weren't the first ones living here."

"No, you weren't, because I own this building and because your mother does not live here."

She cried quietly. Never sobbing, never snorting, she just let the tears flow down her face.

"My ultimatum is this, Terra: if you are telling me the truth and you truly don't remember working for me, then we will start anew; we'll call it good. If, on the other hand, you are lying and you don't come clean right now, then there will be consequences," he hissed at her.

The crying girl made no reply. Slade counted to five in his head before he whipped out his arm and grabbed Tara's face with his hand. She squealed awkwardly with shock, but his palm muffled the noise.

"You will tell me the _truth_."

He squeezed her face tightly. It must have been hurting her; He knew because she was looking at him right in the eye and something in her perfect blue gaze could talk. When Slade removed his hand, he was a bit disturbed to find that he'd left a bruise.

_That's not normal,_ he thought. His subconscious replied, _but it __mak__es sense if her skin is still getting used to being skin agai__n, back from being rock._

Now that he'd let go, the girl brought her hands to her face and spoke, "I know you. I know I do. It's—I think—I recognize your voice, but not your face and I..."

Slade waited. The honest, plaintive way she was talking made him think that maybe she had been telling the truth.

"I—I knew the green guy, I knew him, too, but I don't know where. He said things about who he thinks I am—"

"He's mostly right," Slade interrupted.

Tara's face changed only slightly. If possible, she looked more confused. Still covering her face, she asked him, "You're Slade, then?"

He smiled. "How did you ever know?"

* * *

A/N: My continued thanks, reader.


	3. Chapter 3

"So," she said. Her eyes glazed over and she glared into the distance of the poorly lit room. "What does that mean for me, exactly?"

"You owe me, Terra," Slade said. "You made me a promise, and you haven't been keeping it. Until recently, you were physically incapable of fulfilling your duties, and I would have let you off the hook if you hadn't woken up."

She looked like she was thinking hard. "I... I just realized. I don't actually remember my mom. Or her giving me the keys, or her going on vacation. Or how long I've lived here, or any little details."

Exasperated, Slade rolled his eye. "That's because you fabricated that information. Probably subconsciously."

Tara didn't appear to have heard him that time. "What promise did I make?"

"I'm ever so glad you asked," he said.

* * *

She hadn't really been listening to him after she realized he'd been telling the truth. This wasn't her house. It made perfect sense now. It explained away the lack of photographs and decorations, the abundance of power tools and other such masculine things in drawers and closets. She'd never thought too long or hard about any of the thousand little clues, but now they were each blatant and obvious.

Tara had so many more questions. She was so angry at herself, angry at everyone.

She'd been too busy thinking and wondering. If Slade was here—_the_ Slade—then... she didn't know what the repercussions would be. He'd grabbed her from behind rather than introduce himself. He'd shown her videos or herself moving rocks with some kind of telekinesis. Then he'd dragged her into a secret lair in the basement and he'd hurt her when he'd gotten frustrated.

Clearly, this was not a man that Tara wanted to anger.

Slade told her a story. She listened to his voice more than his words because the things he was saying were things that she did not want to believe.

"You've killed quite a few people, Terra," he said. "And everyone in your life rejected you for it. Even the Titans, once they realized you couldn't control your powers."

"I don't have powers," Tara said. "Not anymore, at least."

The man ignored her and continued, "They kicked you out of their tower. When you came to me for help, we worked through your problems. _Together,_ Terra. And you promised that you would always serve me."

It was the way he said the word _together_ that made Tara's stomach do a back flip. It sounded horribly wrong, and it disturbed her more than the revelation that she'd promised to serve him forever.

"When the Titans learned we were working together, they tried to win you back. You were loyal to your promise then, and you stayed with me. Needless to say, they were a tad offended."

She could tell he was lying. How? If only she knew. If her memories ever came back, she'd know for sure what was up. On the other hand, she didn't really want to remember some of the things he spoke about, for they were the sort of things that would crush the spirit of any normal person.

"You and I took care of the Titans, and took control of the city. Unfortunately, you slipped up and the Titans came back. There was an accident, and I was killed and you were turned to stone."

She decided to let that last, weird, sentence go without asking him about it. Tara pondered his story for a moment, wondering what question to ask first. She settled with, "Beast Boy said—"

He cut her off abruptly, "I'm sure Beast Boy told you a great many untruths about me when he visited you."

A great silence passed in which Tara thought to herself and Slade waited unblinkingly. At long last, she said, "Can I think for a bit about all of this?"

"Of course, Apprentice," Slade said. Before Tara could say anything in response, the man had left the room and closed the door behind him.

Tara was struck dumb for a moment, both by his rudeness and the speed with which he'd exited. "Hey, you can't do that!" she said momentarily, rushing to the door. Frantically, she pounded her fists against the metal, but she just gave her hands bruises.

Well, it was locked. At least he'd left the light on. Tara sighed heavily and leaned her back against the door, eventually sliding down into a sitting position. She wept.

* * *

The mercenary chuckled to himself when he hit the _lock_ button. In his defense, it _was_ pretty funny. He heard Tara beat her fists to get his attention, but he did not answer. She gave up soon enough. Humor left him when he heard her crying, however, and he detoured briefly into memory lane. When they had first started living together, he'd heard her crying all the time. Terra had tried to hide it from him when possible, but he'd always known.

He rested against the door quietly so the girl on the other side wouldn't notice. Slade Wilson almost felt guilty in that moment—when he looked into her big blue eyes, it was so easy to forget that she'd betrayed him, _murdered_ him like a good little Judas. The only reason he wanted her back was...

He realized quite suddenly that he wasn't sure why he was going to take her back. _If nothing else,_ he decided, _I'm going to need this house at some point. It's certainly nicer than hotels and caves._

Terra started talking to herself on the other side of the door. It was just loud enough to distract Slade, but not loud enough for him to figure out what she was saying. Hopefully it wasn't anything important.

He went upstairs to his bedroom, across the hall from where Terra had evidently been sleeping. In the past they had always just slept in his bed, although she'd kept her things in the guest room. A bit surprisingly, his room looked untouched. Good, because he didn't know what he would have done to Terra if she'd gone through his stuff. In the closet, he got down on his knees and felt around on the floor until he found the trapdoor.

"Perfect," he purred to himself. In his professional opinion, no villain should be without hidden compartments for secretive storage.

Spare mask, spare suit, spare weapons. He drew all of the blinds in the house as a precaution and changed. It was good to be back in 'uniform'. The goal was to spark Terra's memory and jump start her powers. If he had to scare the shit out of her to do that, so be it.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading—next chapter is where things will pick up. I feel like I'm doing something wrong though, and I can't put my finger on it. If you have any comments, critiques, criticisms, or even compliments I would love to hear from you. Until next time, everyone.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Special thanks to my reviewers. 13yn, you always notice things that I've missed, and I really appreciate it! I've made the edits you suggested. I don't know if Wintergreen will make an appearance, but it's certainly possible! I also really want to thank Somewhere in Time for her comments and encouragement—they mean a lot!

A heads up here; the show never says the characters' ages, so I've pulled Terra's from the original comics.

* * *

Like nearly every other fifteen-year-old on the planet, Tara had never had a heart attack. When the door opened, though, and Slade stepped into the room with a mask and battle armor, she would have sworn that her heart stopped dead in its tracks. When she saw him, she didn't move. Every muscle in her body locked up and ceased functioning. A voice, driven by buried memories and gut instinct, warned her from the back of her head: _You are going to get your ass kicked and there is no escape. Just protect your head and try not to cry. He might not even kill you._

All the things she'd meant to ask him flew from her mind (although it felt more like they oozed out her ears) and she made no sounds as he approached. It was that _mask_ that freaked her out the most. Tara felt like she was remembering a nightmare she'd had years ago. It was hazy and nonsensical, but that mask was there, _leering_. She feared that anything she did would incite his rage.

"Terra," he said far too calmly. "Do you remember now?"

She tried to speak, but the noise she made was a mix of a cough and a squeak.

"I thought that might be the case," he muttered. Then he said loudly, "It's a damn shame, Terra. I was almost hoping that I wouldn't have to do this. We're going to get your memories back—one way or another."

She was about to try to talk to him, when out of nowhere he decked her with a right hook. Tara felt the impact first, then the pain, and last she felt herself hit the ground. She was aware of nothing in between except an expanse of time like a million years. Above her, the mask with one eye looked very pleased. _Don't cry don't cry don't cry,_ she pleaded with herself.

"Anything yet?" he asked. "We don't have forever, my dear. I'm afraid we've got a lot of work ahead of us and a very inflexible schedule."

Tara didn't understand and did not respond. He kicked her half-heartedly in the ribs while she was down. The girl moaned and did her best to curl up into a fetal position to protect herself. How could she have ever chosen to work for this violent monster? Tara would rather be rejected by the Titans—and everybody else for that matter—than beaten like an animal by Slade! What could have compelled her to join him?

"Muscles have their own memories," he said. "When you do something enough times, you stop having to think about doing it. Just like riding a bicycle. Get up, Terra. Get up and fight me. Your body will remember it all for you."

At her school, Tara had excelled in PE. The girl bruised like a peach, but she had endurance, speed, and an impressive amount of strength for someone with her slight build. Playing sports always felt like preparation, like she was practicing for something much more important. Now she wondered if this was why.

"You have to remember _something_," Slade snarled, enraged by her lack of movement. He bent down to grab her and pull her to her feet by her lapels. "Talk to me, Terra."

It took her a few tries to actually form words, but she managed, "I remember the mask."

"What else? Talk to me, Terra," He leaned in close.

_Way too close,_ Tara thought. When she didn't answer him fast enough, he shook her.

"I remember this," she said. "I remember you attacking me."

"Ah, you see? Now we're getting somewhere!" He said. Tara got the sense he was trying to sound happy. A lie.

Seeing her afraid made him recall the olden days filled with hours of training and abuse. It was looking like they'd have to live through that all over again. Terra wouldn't like it. Slade wasn't sure that he would either. Her naiveté and trust had made Terra an invaluable apprentice the first time, but her fear and paranoia would make her more difficult to control this time around.

But he owned her. She'd made a promise.

The masked man threw the girl to the ground. "Terra, if you don't remember your training, it will cause quite a lot of grief for both of us. It's bad enough that we've got time constraints, but—"

* * *

The doorbell rang.

Slade's head whipped around toward the sound, and he swore loudly.

The bell rang again.

"Terra," he breathed. "Who is at the front door?"

She shook her head. "I never told anyone about my—sorry—your home."

"Stay here and for your sake _stay quiet_." He left the hidden room and changed in the basement. Mask, armor plates, boots, tool belt, and gloves all came off in record time. The black suit stayed; he would just layer over it.

The bell again.

His regular clothes (a polo shirt, a sweater, slacks, loafers, et cetera) went on. He went up to the kitchen and closed the door to the basement.

The bell.

Slade reached for the doorknob, but realized, stupidly, he needed to put his fake eye in. He took off his eye patch and pulled the glass orb from his pocket. He popped it into the socket with practiced expertise—

Bell.

—and opened the door. On the step stood a green boy.

"Hey," the boy greeted, shy.

Slade briefly considered reaching out and snapping the young man's neck. He was pretty sure he could kill the little freak, but he wasn't sure that he could do it without being seen. He came up with a better idea.

"Are you Beast Boy?" he demanded.

"Yes," the kid squeaked. "Can I talk to Terra?"

"My daughter's told me about you. I want you to leave her alone, do you understand? She doesn't have time for your stupidity and distractions. Get out of my sight!"

Beast Boy had already fled before he could finish talking. _That little coward._ Slade thought, although he had to admit to himself that the boy was not as cowardly as he had seemed in this encounter. The two had fought one-on-one before, and the small, green, teen was a force to be reckoned with when he could be a tiger, a pterodactyl, and an ape in a matter of seconds.

Slade slammed the door shut and took a deep breath, praying that Beast Boy hadn't recognized his voice. Knowing the green changeling, his identity would remain a secret.

_Back to the issues at hand,_ Slade thought. _That damned girl._

"TERRA!" He shouted. There was murder in his voice, to be sure. His hands twitched, fingers looking for a neck to squeeze, breathing passages to choke. He stomped down to the basement.

She met him at the bottom of the stairs. His imposing frame blotted out most of the kitchen light from above, making him seem like even more of a giant than he already was to Tara.

"You don't think he'll come back, do you?" she asked.

That must have startled Slade, because his gait faltered for a moment. Otherwise, he did not react.

"_Do_ you?" she persisted. "I don't want him around me."

Quietly, Slade strode to where he'd left his weapons and armor, and he donned them once again with the girl watching. Tara gave up trying to talk to him, and tried to resign herself to the fact that she was going to have the snot beaten out of her.

_Don't cry, don't cry_ didn't help when Slade picked up and twirled a long metal staff. He jabbed her in the gut with it and she tumbled. She began sobbing again. There was nothing but suffering in the forecast of her life.

"In the past," he began the moment his mask was in place, "Your powers would flare up whenever you lost control. Let's try that."

* * *

Beast Boy was confused. He'd been so sure that the girl had been Terra. He would have bet his life on it.

He discovered that, when he lay flopped on the couch with Silky, time passed more slowly than one could have imagined. What was worse, the only thought on his mind was Terra. Her eyes, her smile, her hair.

But the girl he'd met wasn't Terra after all. The Terra he had known and loved hadn't had a family.

"What do _you_ think, Silky?"

The maggot cooed, having apparently decided not to take sides.

"I'm gonna keep following her."

Silky chewed on Beast Boy's foot affectionately.


	5. Chapter 5

Slade growled from deep in his throat, frustrated immensely by Terra's strange resilience. True, he'd been holding back and hadn't been hitting very hard because he realized she was fragile from her transformation back to flesh, but he was still disturbed by the fact that she hadn't lost control of her powers yet.

Her face was disgustingly bruised and swollen, particularly around her eyes and jaw. Her forearms were likewise blemished from where he'd grabbed her and where she'd tried to block his attacks, and her knees and shins were just as terrible from kicks and sweeps. Slade imagined that he'd left marks in other places too, but her clothes hid them from sight.

"Talk to me, Terra. Tell me what you're feeling."

She was curled submissively in a defensive, little ball. It was pathetic, Slade thought. The girl lifted her head and made brief eye-contact with her aggressor before looking away blearily. He thought that she was the saddest sight in the world.

"Talk to me," he repeated, more gently this time.

She mumbled something incoherent. _She's taken enough blows to the head to make her act a bit more than out of sorts,_ Slade admitted to himself.

"Say again?" he asked, still speaking quietly. The front of his mask was inches from Tara's face.

"Slade," she slurred, and she asked, "Have I ever had surgery?"

"Yes," he said flatly, truthfully. "I performed the procedure myself."

"In my brain, right?" And she touched the points on her head where the receptors had been before she had turned back from stone.

"Yes, primarily."

"Okay," she said. Her eyes shut as if all was well in the world and her face twisted into a delirious sort of smile that almost unnerved Slade. Terra continued, "It's good to know, 'cause when you hit me, I remember lightning in my brain."

_She's remembering our last fight,_ Slade thought, remembering how he'd had to use high-voltage electric shocks to punish her while other electric stimuli commandeered her motor functions.

"What do you remember about your powers, Terra?" he asked, trying to keep a lid on his temper while she was sharing information.

"You put a butterfly in my hair, and you said... you said words," she paused. "And I was so angry... I was angry at me, for trusting, for believing I could have a home."

Slade recalled fondly his first conversation with Terra, and remembered how she had cringed when he'd put that butterfly comb into her hair. The man leaned his staff against the wall and crouched down in front of her battered form. With one hand he touched her face and pushed her hair behind her ear as he had done so long ago. He said, "The Titans never really wanted you there, did they?"

She made no response for ten, fifteen seconds, and seemed almost to have forgotten he was there until he shook her. She squawked like a parrot, then asked, "No, they never liked me, did they? Beast Boy said he was my friend and then he _wasn't._"

Sobs burst from her again and she put her arms around his neck and buried her face in the crook where his neck met his shoulder. Slade remembered this and was almost overwhelmed by nostalgia.

After many long, choked, sobs had been forced from her system, Tara asked, "Can I sleep?"

Slade stroked her hair and sighed. "Good girl. Go right ahead."

The girl's body went limp and she shut down. Slade tucked her hair behind her ear affectionately again, for it had come out, and again wondered what had happened to that butterfly comb.

When he went to move her and felt the form of her body, he was disturbed that her frame was so weak. When he'd first met her, first started to teach her, she had been able to take hours of abuse (or, as he had called it then, "training"). Even a strong blow to her head from his metal staff had been something the girl could shake off. Now all it took was a few soft hits before she was delirious.

Not for the first time, the mercenary wondered if the girl would be able to do what he had in mind. Was it possible that she would be different this time around? Would she be the same as before, the same lovable but easily-manipulated teenager.

She was the antithesis of Adeline, and maybe that was why he liked her so much. Adeline was wholly competent in everything she did, Terra was pretty much the opposite. Slade considered his ex-wife as his equal. He thought of Terra as a subordinate, an inferior. At worst, he saw her as a tool and at best he saw her as a companion to keep things interesting.

After removing his mask, Slade kissed his apprentice softly on the forehead and left the hidden room. The door closed and locked behind him, and he began to shed the metal plates that made up his armor. He didn't think Terra would wake up any time soon and so counted on the opportunity to look through his house and reminisce.

He'd bought the place after the divorce. It wasn't great but it wasn't terrible, making for an ideal bachelor pad. It was taller than it was wide, but still far bigger than any one person would normally require. Upstairs was his bedroom and bathroom as well as a spare room that was furnished only for the sake of keeping up appearances. Terra had adopted the room as her own when he had brought her here after recovering her from the Titans' grasp.

The ground floor had a kitchen and a living room. Slade Wilson did not own a television in his home, but he kept numerous displays in his underground lairs. Instead of staring at what he thought of as "the idiot box" he hung art on his walls, even in his kitchen.

It was frustrating for him to see his home messy, the result of being inhabited by a teenage girl left to her own devices. Dishes were piled high in the sink and Slade could see scum lining the inside of his once-pristine microwave. It was enough to make him cringe and grit his teeth—he would make Terra clean her mess later, he decided. The mercenary didn't dare look within the refrigerator.

Curiosity pulled him back to Terra's room, and he snooped about to see what all she had. There was the usual school fare: backpack with books and paper. Once the contents were scattered on the table, he picked through them carefully for clues about the new girl, Tara.

A red notebook caught his attention, and he opened it and leafed through the pages. Tara was, apparently, a terrible note-taker and seemed to prefer to fill her notes with drawings. The mercenary took careful note of the pencil and pen illustrations.

One page was filled with the letter T, all in capitals, all in different sized. The Titans' tower, Slade assumed. The following page featured a small butterfly sitting on a stick girl's head. Next to the girl was a dog, and at the beast's feet was a heart-shaped box. Slade understood enough of the drawing to tear it out of the notebook and crumple it up in his hands.

Another page showed a castle. Something from back in Markovia? Maybe. Slade had long known of Tara's connections to the country, but it was not something about which she liked to speak—except when she was already crying about something else. Whenever the dear girl's heart was breaking about something, she seemed to think that the root cause could be traced back to her homeland and her family. At some point Slade had heard rumors about his apprentice's brother, Brion Markov, in the United States.

Geo-Force, Brion's alter-ego, was one of those heroes that you didn't want to fuck with. Slade had never met the young man, but he had heard tell of his powers. Gravity manipulation and the ability to fire lava at his enemies were among Brion's talents. In many ways, Geo-Force would have made a better apprentice than dear Terra had, except that Terra was deliciously easy to control and oh-so eager to please Slade any way she could.

A light shudder passed through his body as he remembered the 'good times,' a few of which had happened right in this house. He was reasonably certain that there would be more opportunities in the future, once Terra was back in her right mind.

All too suddenly, a tremor passed through the floorboards and Slade heard a faint rumble. Terra. He bolted down the stairs to the kitchen and practically leaped into the basement. The shaking strengthened suddenly and he almost lost his footing on his way to the hidden door.

Slade used the tip of his staff to hit the button and pounced on his apprentice when the door opened. Her eyes were glowing gold and her hands were sheathed in the same glow. All together she looked bewildered and frightened of herself, but the look vanished from her features when Slade hit her in the gut and she fell on her ass.

"You're an _idiot_," he hissed, unable to find an insult severe enough to describe her foolishness. "Do you really think that there isn't someone out there monitoring all seismic activity in Jump City? Someone green with pointy ears?"

"I just want to leave," she wailed, gold light fading from her eyes and hands.

"Stupid bitch!" He bellowed. Slade could feel himself beginning to lose his temper, but he was also glad she had rediscovered her powers and regained much of her usefulness, even if she wasn't very good at using them yet. Terra's ineptitude at certain times was unavoidable, but he'd been able to work around it before by controlling her body. He wasn't eager to repeat that experiment soon, however. "Terra, you have just made life very difficult on yourself. Stay here."

He left, wondering how he'd get back at her.

* * *

Tara didn't want to be left alone in the room again, especially not now that it had been proven to her (albeit violently) that she was Terra. After the beating she had passed out before waking up, and from there she had been angry.

Angry and afraid.

Feeling those things she had felt the earth beneath her, and for a moment she had believe it was singing lullabies to her as she lay on the ground, songs long forgotten. The music had pulled her to her feet and before she had really been aware of it, Tara was shaking the ground.

Slade had attacked her for that. Hadn't he wanted her to use her powers? She didn't understand. Her hands went to her head and she could feel lumps where bruises had formed. In caressing the wounds she wondered if her inability to comprehend the situation fully wasn't caused by what Slade had done to her.

The door opened and she jumped. He'd been gone for almost a half-hour, but it felt like only seconds. Slade had removed his costume and was once again wearing civilian clothes. A heavy backpack was slung over one shoulder and Tara saw a few briefcases through the doorway. He tossed some clothes to Tara and demanded, "Put them on. We're relocating."

She gathered up the clothes and held them in her arms. For a while she looked at Slade expectantly so he would leave her to change. When he held her gaze and did not move, she understood that he did not mean to exit the room.

"Change," he prompted.

"Slade, I—"

"My dear, this will not be my first time seeing you in your underwear and I highly doubt it will be my last. Put on the clothes."

_He's seen my underwear? What did he do to me before this? _She wondered in horror. _This, what he's doing, is meant to be punishment. He's going to humiliate me for using my powers._

"I'm waiting," he purred. Without changing the tone of his voice, he said, "And if you think I won't change your clothes for you, you are mistaken."

At that, the girl turned her back on him and switched her school uniform for casual clothes as fast as she could, but she could not avoid the weight of her tormenter's gaze. When she turned back to him, he was smiling pleasantly.

"All right then, Terra. We're going to leave the house. We will walk across town. You will follow my lead at all times. You will do as I say. You will not walk farther than five feet from me when we travel. Wear these sunglasses."

"Why?" she inquired stupidly.

"Because you look horrid and a teenage girl with two black eyes walking with an adult will draw attention."

"Oh."

"Come on, then."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: My real life schedule is absurd and has been for a long time. I can't make any promises as far as added chapters go, but I do work on the story when I can. In addition to writing new chapters, I frequently edit old ones with the aim of correcting grammatical mistakes and improving the flow of my writing. Thanks for your continued support.

* * *

To Tara, the walk felt like it lasted for years. Even carrying a backpack and two briefcases, Slade was able to walk at a normal pace, a feat that amazed and bewildered the poor girl. She was unburdened, but aching joints slowed her. Retarded speed aside, Tara's anxieties and Slade's watchful gaze were suffocating.

Every time a person walked by, she wanted to reach out and grab them and scream, "Help me, please, you don't know what he's done to me!" but she knew that she would inevitably fail to save herself.

It was getting dark by the time they reached a fenced-off alleyway. The illumination from the streetlights failed to penetrate the depths of the alley, but Tara thought she could make out a set of stairs descending into the ground. Slade paused in front of the locked gate and pulled a device seemingly from nowhere—it looked like a paperclip, but his hands moved too quickly for her to get a good look before the lock popped open and Slade pocketed the tool. The gate swung open, lopsided.

"You first," he said. Tara did as she had been commanded.

Her blue eyes began adjusting to the dark and she could see that she had been correct. There were stairs set up in the ground.

"This subway has been abandoned for several years now," Slade explained as he locked the gate behind them. "The tunnels collapsed after Doctor Light had a run-in with the Titans down there. It was cheaper for the city to build tunnels around rather than to repair, so they left it busted. Doctor Light went back to prison. I watched it for a few months and decided to keep it as a spare base of operations. It's been outfitted to be livable, do not worry yourself."

_Yeah, _that's_ what I'm worried about,_ she thought.

He began descending the stairs and Tara followed him after a moment of indecision and a fretful glance back at the locked gate.

Two flights of stairs later, they emerged into a large chamber. Tara, still clutching a handrail in the dark, could not tell exactly how large it was, but the echoes of their footsteps made her imagine a football stadium. She heard Slade walk farther away and set down the suitcases. He went even farther, and Tara heard metal clanging and scratching sounds.

Dim lights kicked on overhead, buzzing with the force of a thousand bees. Tara got her first look at the old station. It wasn't as huge as she had thought, but it was still bigger than the house. She walked away from the stairs and out onto the platform where Slade approached her.

"This is where we will be living and working," he explained. He did not gesture grandly or give any indication to Tara how he felt about the place—was he _happy_ to be living in an abandoned subway station? _Content_, even? She didn't think so. Slade struck her as a man with greater plans for himself than a subway.

"Why didn't we just use my—your—house?" She asked.

He stared at her with his one good eye hard enough to make cold adrenaline shoot through the girl's body. "My dear, the next time you ask a stupid question without trying to answer it yourself first, I _will_ hurt you."

Having said that, he deadbolted the double doors that sealed them off from the stairs with a two-by-four and used a loose chain and padlock to close them up. After rattling the doors to be certain they were secured, he crossed to a dilapidated table and put his bag there. The girl glanced back at the doors and her skin crawled when she thought of how she didn't have a key to that lock. Even if she could bypass those doors, she'd still have to sprint up the stairs and get past the wire fence outside to get away. He'd be able to catch her before she was up ten stairs.

Tara looked from Slade back to the door and back to Slade. He was taking an array of complex-looking tools from his backpack and laying them out on a table. She approached cautiously, curious. She made sure to stay on his left side so that he would see her and not think she was sneaking up. Tara didn't want to give the man any reason to be angry or frustrated—his fuse was short enough as it was. "What are they for?" she inquired.

"A variety of things," he began to explain, pausing to hold a tool close to his eye to examine it. "Quite a few are for mechanical things. I have surgical tools as well."

He placed a scalpel on the table. The girl moved to reach for it but Slade grabbed her already-bruised wrist and squeezed hard. "_Don't touch_. You were quite happy to make yourself at home in _my_ house with _my_ things, but you will not do the same here. Do you understand me, Terra?" The entire time Slade spoke, his head did not turn and he did not look at her. He kept his voice flat and Tara would have bet money that his heart rate hadn't changed at all.

She whimpered in assent and he released her. The girl took a step back.

"You're a different girl than you were before, Terra," Slade said passively. Tara almost believe there was disappointment in the man's voice.

She felt obliged to ask, "How so?"

"Well," he began, "I've been watching you for a while now. You're slower than you were—mentally, I mean, you're still a good runner and your reflexes are decent. You're less chatty, too, except for when you're talking with those two girls you always hang out with at school."

"I don't like that you were watching me," she said quietly, feeling violated not for the first time today. She chose not to argue his point about her being stupid. She _felt_ stupid, and decided there were worse things than being dumb.

"You used to love attention," Slade said pointedly. He finished laying out his tools and tossed the now empty bag to the side. "You didn't like letting people know, but you absolutely loved it when someone would single you out and compliment you on something."

An image of a silver butterfly came to Tara's mind, but she was unsure what to make of it.

Slade continued his story, "After you moved in with me, we would train for hours and hours a day. I had to make sure you could control your powers, after all, but you used to ask the stupidest questions. 'Is this right, Slade?' you would ask, 'Am I doing a good job?'" he mocked her as he went to the suitcases.

The one he opened appeared to contain his costume and its armor plates, plus some things that Tara couldn't identify from across the old subway station.

"How long did we live together?" She asked. What she meant was, _'How long was I your prisoner?'_ because she could not imagine that she had ever trusted this horrible man well enough to live with him.

"We lived together for a few months the first time, then you went undercover for me. Then we lived together for several more months. Most of the time was spent training. That's what we'll be doing here. Mostly."

Too many questions swam behind her eyes and all of them had the potential for terrible answers. Most of all, she wanted to ask him what he'd meant when he had told her that he'd seen her in her underwear and that he expected to see her in her underwear again. She found that she could not come up with a possible explanation that didn't make her want to peel her skin away in discomfort.

"You're welcome to explore the tunnels, my dear," Slade told her. He was removing pieces of metal from one suitcase and carrying them to the table with the tools. "I have no use for you right now."

Tara jumped from the platform onto the tracks and ran into the poorly lit tunnels without a second thought. She would rather be in the deep, dark Jump City subway system than be with Slade! She found herself practically sprinting away from him into the blackness. She was exhausted from her injuries and from the long walk but none of that mattered to her when danger was behind her.

Alas, she could not run forever. Soon it became too dark to see anything except a faint gray dot of light where Slade waited. Tara slowed her pace because she felt like her heart would pop like a maraschino cherry under a boot if she kept going at her old gait. She trudged farther from the light until one of her shoes hit a large rock.

The girl felt around with her hands. There was a large pile of rocks blocking the tunnel. She groped through the darkness thoroughly and could find no way to bypass the boulders. No doubt her tormentor knew that the boulders were there; that was why this subway station was abandoned in the first place. She felt for a place to sit and couldn't find one. Frustrated with herself, outraged at Slade, and indignant about not having a place to rest, she threw her arms in the air.

Yellow light almost blinded her and she froze with her arms up like she was in the middle of dancing the YMCA. A boulder, highlighted like her hands, hovered a few feet off the ground. Despite herself, a grin flashed across Tara's bruised face. She lowered her hands slowly, and the boulder set itself down almost noiselessly. The light faded from both the rock and from Tara's hands, and she sat on the new seat she had made for herself.

* * *

Slade saw the telltale glow of his apprentice's powers. He kept calm and decided not to punish her this time. Why? He wanted to let her think she had a chance of outwitting him. He wanted her to think that she had some way to affect her life. Then, on another day when he hadn't already beaten her bloody like a red-headed stepchild, he would dash those hopes with an unheard-of display of violence.

He had no doubt that working for Trigon had made him much more brutal than he had once been. Outwardly he was able to remain the calm and collected mercenary he had always been, but now there was a part of him that craved the destruction that he had been able to cause while in Trigon's employ. Most of all he had enjoyed terrorizing Raven, and he had always regretted that her father had forbade him from truly breaking her. As a result, Slade had set aside a number of things that he had wanted to do, and it was looking like Terra would be a vessel for his fantasies once again.

The mercenary went back to his work—he was making communicators that would be inaccessible to the Titans' equipment. He'd made things like these before, but he suspected that the Titans updated their technology frequently and that his old inventions would be useless now. He was almost finished with his half of the communicator, a hands-free device that would connect to the inside of his mask. He would work on Terra's part next, the simpler of the two halves. Terra's was to be a simple earbud from which he could give her orders. It would be sensitive enough that Slade would be able to hear her talk to him and he'd be able to pick up most of the sound around her. _All the better to spy upon you, my dear,_ he thought. When he finished the communicators, he planned to make a GPS tracker that he would surgically implant in the girl's skin. He suspected that, like the neural interface he'd previously installed in her body, the last tracking chip he'd given her had vanished.

The work was frustrating, as the creations were very small and required good depth perception, an area in which he was deficient for obvious reasons. In fights, he could gauge depth without trouble because everything was moving and he had plenty of reference points, but when he was alone and everything was still, his partial blindness was infuriating. It was a cruel trick of nature that Addie's bullet had taken all the fun from him one of Slade's favorite hobbies—inventing.

From the tunnel came a ghastly roar. The villain could not identify it at first, but eventually recognized it as Tara's snores amplified by echoes. He relaxed and tried to return to his work, but was annoyed by the sound. He put his tools down on the table.


	7. Chapter 7

Beast Boy, for his part, had been sitting in Terra's old room. He did this from time to time when he was feeling particularly alone or sad. The space had ceased to be anything but a room in which he could vent his anger or mope.

He would have bet anything that the girl had been Terra, right up until the man had answered the door. Who was he? Beast Boy didn't see much of a relationship between the two in terms of looks, except that they both had blue eyes. Based on the man's particular shade of white hair, he'd probably been blonde when younger, like the girl.

_Like Terra._

A feeling of uneasiness had been twisting around in his belly since seeing the man. He didn't look familiar, but Beast Boy was certain that they had met before. Sometimes you just knew things, and he was positive that this was one of those times.

The stars painted on the ceiling provided little comfort to the young man looking up at them, so he went back to his room and fought his way through refuse to his bed and computer. Checking it for messages, he found that he had one—unusual seismic activity had been detected in the city. It was not too intense, but notable for its small radius. He looked up the GPS coordinates.

After a pensive moment, he flew out the window as a seagull, intent upon spying some more. _At this point,_ he thought in his little seagull head, _I just want to know for sure either way.

* * *

_

Tara's sleep among the rocks was fitful and she woke up several times. The cold didn't bother her, and stone was not uncomfortable even against her badly bruised form. The thing that kept her from resting was _fear_. Any time she moved and made a sound, she convinced herself that Slade was there and that he was going to attack her and beat her senseless or worse. If there had been a closet near her, she would have checked it for Slade rather than for monsters. She wanted sleep desperately and had to fight for the rest and steal it bit by bit.

Her dreams were not pleasant. Most were so abstract she could not tell what they were. Other dreams were, for lack of better words, _embarrassing_. Tara only remembered one after waking, and she would never have shared it with anyone.

In the dream—the nightmare—she had sex with Slade. _Consensual_ sex (although at her age it was still statutory rape even if she didn't try to fight him off). Her sense of pride was mortified, and Tara decided that she would rather be violently raped by the madman than allow him to have sex with her willingly. She could live with something horrible happening to her so long as it was outside of her control. She could not live with herself knowing that she had allowed something so nauseating to happen to her.

_What if I already did?_ She screamed inside her head. It was just about the worst thing to have to think about. _I lived with him for _months_. I can't remember _anything_ before these last few weeks. I don't know who I was before._

Before long she curled into a fetal position and cried in the dark. The more she worried about it, the more convinced she became. The thing upon which she could not decide was whether or not she should ask Slade. She had to know. Had to. But if Slade told her that no, they hadn't fucked, then what would he think of her? What if he said yes? Then she'd never forgive herself. And who was to say he would tell the truth in the first place?

When the fear and stress became too much for her to handle, the girl vomited in a corner.

* * *

If there was any sound in the universe that every person could recognize, it was the sound of someone puking, the sound of someone spewing their guts. That was what Slade heard as he finished installing his new communicator into his mask.

The noise was unmistakable: Terra was throwing up in the subway tunnel. Slade decided to investigate. The girl had been in the tunnel for many hours now; it was almost morning in the streets above. He took a flashlight—a huge one that could be used as a weapon—with him as he trekked down the tracks, but he never turned it on. Slade could see very well in the dark, but he knew that his apprentice could not. He planned to use the bright light to disorient the girl and thus assert his dominance.

He walked slowly, waiting for a reaction from the girl who was leaning against the rocks for support. She seemed to have run out of stomach contents to regurgitate. Terra breathed heavily, and did not behave as if she had heard him approach.

Slade switched on the light and simultaneously called his apprentice. "Terra?"

She screamed loud enough for the citizens of Gotham to hear her on the other side of the country, but fortunately for Slade's powerful ears, it was not a prolonged shriek. It seemed to take her a moment to gather her bearings and see him. In his black and gray uniform he wasn't particularly visible in the gloom.

"What's wrong, my dear?" he asked, more than a little facetious.

No answer came from the shuddering girl for a long while. Finally, after a deep breath, she said, "Don't mock me."

"Fair enough," he said. "But do tell me why you're throwing up."

It was Terra's turn to be facetious. "I'm sick."

"I hadn't figured that out for myself," he snarled back. In general, her ability to be sarcastic was the only part of Terra's sense of humor that Slade appreciated (her rock-related puns got on his nerves), but right now she was using it unkindly and without the intent of being funny. He walked close to where the girl was draped over the rocks. "Can you stand?"

She got up on her own as an answer, but Slade saw her wobble. One look in her eyes told him she'd been crying. "You've got tears in your eyes, Terra."

Terra snapped, "I know."

"No need to act like that, my dear, you know you can tell me anything." She gave him a look like he'd just punched her in the gut. Slade raised an eyebrow at her, and she turned away almost at once.

He regretted deeply that she was not the girl she had once been. The old Terra would have confided in him immediately and asked his opinion on whatever bothered her. He missed being hero-worshiped. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy abject terror, but it was too easy to inspire fear and negative attention. He was realizing now that what he wanted most was admiration, although he knew he would never win it from her as he had before without serious brainwashing.

"What troubles you?"

Terra glowered and took an angry step toward Slade. That was something the old Terra would have done, and he recognized the behavior. The girl was asserting—or attempting to assert—her right to privacy and secrets. He had been through this same song and dance with the old Terra, after he had whisked her away from the carnival and Beast Boy. That night, he'd taught her an excruciatingly painful "lesson," so to speak. She was his apprentice; she didn't get secrets.

"Tell me," he prompted sweetly as they began walking back to the station, "What's wrong?"

She fidgeted as if groping for something with her mind. "I can't really... I just got scared."

The truth, but not the whole truth. This was not the place to "teach lessons," he thought as he looked at the darkness, but continuing to question her might be conducive to his needs. He asked, "Scared of what?"

He watched her eyes dart back and forth as she concocted a lie.

He cut her off. "Scared of _me_."

She hesitated, then nodded. Yes, she was scared of him, but that wasn't what had made her so anxious she had thrown up. Terra was wont worry and overreact, but he had never seen her so stressed out that she threw up. It was something else to do with him. His eye narrowed slightly when he understood.

* * *

Tara was not prepared for what Slade asked her next as he leered at her with his one eye. "Are you afraid I'm going to rape you, Terra?" She got the sense that he enjoyed asking her that question too much.

She doubled over and threw up again, stomach seizing painfully. All that came out was water and a little bit of yellow bile. After retching helplessly a few times, she asked breathlessly, "Are you?"

If 'yes, right now' was the worst answer he could have given and 'no, I'm gay' was the best, Slade's actual answer leaned toward the worst category. He spoke as if he were joking, telling her, "Not when you're covered in vomit."

She collapsed but did not pass out.

"You're still very sick," he commented as if their most recent conversation had never happened. "Do you need help walking?"

"No!" she assured, and pulled herself to her feet, fighting the weight of exhaustion. Slade watched her, but she didn't dare look at him for fear that she would fall down again. She marched rigidly down the tracks and made it to the platform by counting numbers in her head as a form of autohypnosis.

Getting onto the platform was troublesome, but she managed. Slade jumped up next to her with the uncanny grace of a cat.

"Take a shower," he suggested in a way that was really an order. "I'll bring you clean clothes."

"Fine, but I'll take the clothes in with me."_ And I will lock the door._

He was already over at the suitcase. He retrieved a change of clothes that he had apparently packed for her and tossed them at her. She caught them, but fumbled and they came unfolded in her hands. "Fine."

She hesitated. "Where's the shower?"

* * *

A/N: As always, any feedback you have is appreciated. Anonymous reviews are enabled.


	8. Chapter 8

Slade showed Terra down a side hallway to where the bedroom and bathroom were, and indicated the bathroom wordlessly. She ducked in and closed the door. He stood perfectly still, certain that she was inside with her ear to the wooden portal, listening for the sound of him leaving.

He tromped away exaggeratedly noisily, then silently walked back to the door. It wasn't that he really felt like invading her privacy at the moment, it was simply that he thoroughly liked to remind himself of how damn good he was at what he did. His ears picked up the sound of her breathing even through the door, and he was amused when he realized she was still listening to him, and had not bought his loud walk-away. He repeated the action, but with more finesse this time, still making enough noise to be heard.

Only then did Slade hear the girl shuffling around, and he decided to move the luggage into the back bedroom and get the place ready to be livable once more.

* * *

Tara found the bathroom to be better than she had expected, but wasn't actually surprised by its cleanliness and spaciousness when she thought about it—Slade seemed like _exactly_ the kind of person who would have a fastidiously well-kept restroom.

It wasn't sparkling white (it had been a public restroom initially) but it was clearly clean. Tara didn't even bother to wonder how Slade had gotten all of the pipes and other necessities in to set up to make the shower. At this point she just wanted to make sure the door would lock behind her.

It did, and a great deal of tension melted away from the girl as she turned the lock, but she knew better than to let her guard down entirely. Throwing the clean clothes to the floor, she stripped down before experimenting with the water systems. The girl found that there were exactly two temperatures of water available: scalding and arctic. She opted for the hot water and ended up just standing still with the water hitting her in the face.

How many hours had it been since school had ended and she'd walked to what she had thought was her home? Tara didn't know. She stepped away from the water and used a folded towel from the counter to dry herself off. She got dressed, and left the water running to buy time—if Slade heard it go off, he'd expect her to leave the bathroom, and she was enjoying the feeling of security that the lock provided. It hadn't occurred to her that Slade would of course have a key.

Tara didn't know how long she could stay in the bathroom before Slade came a-knocking, but resolved to wait on her own until he tried to get her out. She wanted to see how long he would wait before giving the order, and then when he did she would already be dressed so if he was feeling impatient she would not have to worry about rushing to get her clothes on.

She went through the drawers at the sinks for potential tools and found spare toothbrushes still in their packaging, tubes of toothpaste, dental floss, and mouthwash. _At least I'm not going to get any cavities,_ she thought sarcastically as she moved to the next drawer. This one showed more promise—it contained a collapsible straight razor. In her mind's eye she saw herself slashing Slade's throat with it and bolting, but didn't think that it would be as easy in real life as her imagination made it seem.

The girl closed the drawer. Tara knew that if she so much as touched it, Slade would know.

* * *

Slade had been to this hideout a few days before he'd reacquired his apprentice, and he'd done most of his cleaning then, so there was very little dust in the bedroom.

It was deep and wide and had at one time been some sort of storage space for subway system maintenance equipment. Now it had one large bed and one small cot tucked in the corner where most people would put a bed for their dog. Slade suspected that Terra would opt to sleep in the cot rather than in the bed with him, but he had placed her pillows and blankets on the bed where she would have to get them for herself. He intended to move them back to the main bed every day until she gave up moving them and joined him as she had before.

When he'd had Terra last time, when she hadn't been under the _full_ weight of duress, they had slept in separate rooms until Slade had coerced her into sleeping with him (in both senses of the phrase) after about two weeks of living in the same underground complex. Old Terra—he found himself thinking of his apprentice as he had last known her this way—had required finesse to manipulate and control right up until the end. New Terra needed to be violently threatened, abused and generally controlled with a heavier hand, so to speak, until she came around. He'd realized that she would only side with him if she thought she would be safer that way. Slade had adjusted his plans accordingly, but found himself again to be mourning the loss of Old Terra.

He folded her clothes and put them in the small bureau that would serve as storage to all of her possessions from now on. His own clothes were already squared away nicely in his own bureau. He'd even put books on a small shelf, but these were more for show than for any other reason. Slade did not actually have strong feelings for or against Sun Tzu's The Art of War, but stocked it because he expected that Terra expected him to have it and he had an image of himself to cultivate.

When he decided she'd had a long enough time in the shower, he went to the room and knocked on the door by pounding on it with the heel of his hand.

* * *

Tara almost jumped out of her skin, although she had no reason to be surprised. She was only thankful that she hadn't screamed or made any other noises.

"I'll be out in a bit," she called, her voice trembling with adrenaline.

"Nonsense, my dear, you're already dressed by now," Slade called back.

Chilling though his comment was, Tara went to the door and opened it.

"Thought so," he said smugly, and she blushed with frustration that he had caught her in her lie. She was uneasy when he brushed past her and clapped a hand on her shoulder, squeezing just a little too hard for just a little too long. It would leave a mark, she knew.

The masked man had moved to the sink and counter. His eye swept them once. "You checked the drawers," he said.

How did he know? Was he bluffing? Had she left some trace she didn't realize existed?

Slade pulled open the drawer with the oral hygiene supplies, then closed it briskly. He opened the drawer with the razor next. "You didn't even touch _this_. I'm impressed. You're smarter than you let on, dear child."

Of course she recognized his insult, and she bit back a snide remark. He slammed the drawer shut loudly, and when he turned his eye to her, Tara thought she saw frustration there. Was he upset that she hadn't touched it?

She didn't understand him, apparently.

"I expected you to at least pick it up," he explained as if disappointed.

"If I had, you'd have beat the shit out of me," she said rashly.

He held her gaze unblinkingly for a moment, and then said, "I was looking forward to that."

Tara did not regret leaving the blade alone, and was quietly proud of herself for having predicted his actions.

She _did_ understand him, apparently, and took quiet pleasure from that.

Slade started speaking and she snapped to attention, not wanting to miss a word he said. "It's five in the morning. You should get some sleep. Training starts in four hours."

Five in the morning? Really? That was the part of his small speech that floored her the hardest, though she didn't let it show. She voiced her next question, "Where do I sleep?"

"Bedroom, of course," he said, and was out the door before she realized he had started to move. How did he make no noise in his steel-toed boots? "Follow me, Terra."

The bedroom was only just across the wide hallway, and it took her only three steps to get from where she had been standing to the bedroom. At first she thought there was only one bed and panicked, but soon noticed a small cot in the corner and asked, "Is that for me?"

"If you want, but I'm afraid it's not very comfortable, my dear. You can take your pillow and blanket from the bed."

She did, insulted and disturbed that he thought she might want to share a bed with him. Once Tara established a tiny nest on the cot for herself, she closed her eyes most of the way shut to make it look like they were closed and watched Slade.

He removed his mask first and put it on the bedside table. Then he removed his boots and the metal armored plates from his uniform and—

She fell asleep abruptly, having underestimated how tired she had been.

* * *

A/N: Please review. Anonymous reviews are enabled.


	9. Chapter 9

Tara was pulled bodily from her cot. She stiffened with fright and was set upright by Slade, who had once again donned his armor and mask.

"Good morning, sunshine," he said as Tara looked at his visage with her eyes half open but still filled with the terror of morning amnesia. "It's time for training."

The girl was still too stunned to say anything, but she didn't have to, as Slade began to pull her along out of the bedroom. She hadn't even considered the possibility of breakfast, and so was surprised when they reached the subway platform and there was a plate of toast on the table.

It didn't seem above him to make food for the starving girl and then deny it to her, so she did not move to take it, thought she wanted the toast badly. She said nothing in case it was a cruel trick.

"Are you going to eat?" He asked, nudging her forward with a hand on her back. His hands were so large compared to the slender girl that with his palm centered between her shoulder blades his fingertips almost reached all the way across her back.

Tara didn't make him tell her twice. She ate without sitting down. After throwing up the complete contents of her stomach a few hours ago, her guts had resorted to gnawing on themselves painfully, and she was thankful to have food to keep the pain at bay. Part way through the first slice of toast she considered refusing to eat and paused, but realized that Slade would win if she tried to defy him with mere stubbornness and that she would only be setting herself back in the long run. She resumed eating with her previous gusto and failed to notice the way Slade watched her with disdain until she finished.

"Come on," he began. Tara pushed herself away from the table to follow him to the middle of the platform. He stopped walking so she did, too. He said, "Alright, my dear, here's how this is going to work. We fight—you aren't going to be using your powers just yet so it will be strictly hand-to-hand—and I'll correct your form along the way. You were never exceptionally good at this, but I expect muscle memory to help you along _significantly_."

She almost told him that she didn't want to fight, but thought better of it moments before it was too late. Instead, the girl stood rigidly still, expecting Slade to hit her. Instead, he waited like a statue and watched her with his arms folded across his chest.

"Hit me, Terra."

"You're just going to hit me back harder," she mourned, more to herself than to him.

"That all depends on how well you follow my commands, doesn't it?" he hissed. "Do as I say."

The girl took an awkward stance that she had probably picked up from a movie and drew her arm back, then thrust it forward to try to punch the villain. He sidestepped, and let her momentum carry her forward a step and pull her off balance. Slade barely had to tap her on the shoulder to make her tumble forward and hit the ground.

"Don't wind up like that, Terra. It tells me exactly what you plan to do and takes time away from you. You can hit just as hard without leaving yourself open and imbalanced. Do you understand?"

She grunted in the affirmative and got up.

"Try again."

Tara hoped there was a way she could space out and let the day pass by her the way she'd been able to curl into a ball yesterday in the basement and deal with the abuse that way. Unfortunately, because she had to really use her brain for this, she would have to be lucid the entire time. She went to punch at him again, and this time she didn't pull her arm back. She just extended it quickly. As expected, he caught her fist in one of his palms.

"Better. Don't lock your arm when you extend. Try hitting me several times now."

She tried, but each fist she threw became sloppier and less controlled than the last until she was just flailing her arms. Slade was obviously not impressed, and he told her off for it. Tara experienced a strange sensation of guilt when he scolded her, and was terrified by that. She let Slade continue to correct her, but she didn't hear all of what he said. She was too busy with introspection.

"What did I just say?" Slade growled.

Tara's attention snapped back to the villain and the color drained from her face. She said nothing because she could say nothing that would keep him from being angry. When he didn't move, she admitted in a small voice, "I... I don't know."

He punched her in the abdomen and she fell backwards onto her tailbone. "I was telling you that you'll get more power out of your attacks if you twist your body and follow through, but if you'd rather not listen, my dear, we can always take a more hands-on approach. Get up and fight me."

* * *

It was almost dinnertime before Slade tired of hitting Terra and telling her what was wrong when she hit him. She was a slow girl, that was certain, but as he pulled her to her feet for the thousandth time that day, the corners of his mouth twitched into a slight smile behind his mask. She would never know.

She bruised like a peach still, and by the end of their training she was black and blue and dizzy. Slade held her by the back of her shirt to keep her standing, and walked her to a metal table where he could sit her down.

"Stay alert," he told her sharply. "You'll be in worse situations in the future and you're still going to need to be able to make intelligent choices."

"Yeah," she murmured.

"What was that?" he growled, grabbing her chin.

"Yeah," she repeated more loudly.

His grip tightened on her chin, and his hand twitched back and forth sharply, jerking her head with it. "I said, 'what was that?'"

There was a long moment where she looked at him in confusion before she guessed what he wanted. "Yes, Slade," she amended.

The masked man let her go. "Good girl, Terra."

She sat up straight, but stared down at the table. Slade was about to scold her for spacing out until he realized that she was looking at her reflection in the medical grade stainless steel of the table. Her feet shifted, scraping back an forth across the cement absently, her hands twitched and balled up into fists. The girl didn't seem to notice.

Slade heated soup from a can for her over a homemade stove. He resented that construct. It had taken him longer than it should have to build it, and no part of him had been challenged in the process. When he gave Terra her food, she ate ferociously. He took off his mask to eat quietly, and stood over her while she devoured. Once or twice he reached down and pulled her hair back behind her ear so it wouldn't get in her soup. What had happened to that butterfly comb? It was so useful for times like this.

He provided her with seconds before she could ask, and she had finished those before he was done with his firsts.

"Shower," he told her, and patted her on her back. She winced, but pulled herself to her feet and headed to the bathroom.

* * *

When she was done scrubbing herself as clean as she thought she could be, she left the bathroom. Slade seemed to have been able to anticipate her timing, because he was standing right outside. "Bed," he commanded.

Tara did not question. This was an order that she was happy to follow. The cot was empty, and again she had to salvage pillows and a blanket from Slade's bed. She lay down with her back to the wall, facing the man who had made himself her master. He did not speak to her or acknowledge her as he undressed.

The armor plates that protected his joints snapped off noisily. Tara's mind recognized it as an immensely satisfying sound, and she almost breathed a sigh after each heavy chunk of metal was removed. The faint smile on Slade's face suggested that he felt similarly, and he maintained that expression as he placed each piece carefully on a shelf.

The girl kept staring once he removed his gloves and boots. She looked away after that, but not for long. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she cracked one eye open to watch him peel off his shirt. She stared long and hard at his well-muscled back and found herself biting her lip. She hated herself for this, and the hate was only compounded when she felt a distant sort of tingle between her legs. Tara wanted to scream at herself, but did nothing but watch as Slade stripped down to his underwear and lay in his bed.

"You did well today, Terra. I am very pleased with you." The man's voice seemed to seek out every corner of the room to echo about there before burrowing into Tara's ear. Once inside her skull it prodded at some memories that she could not recall in detail, memories of sleeping in the same bed as he did.

She slept uneasily.


	10. Chapter 10

He established pattern quickly in their daily schedule, just as he had the first time he had trained her.

After two days, she was remembering her old reflexes.

After five days, she was retaliating and countering his attacks and movements appropriately.

After a week, her body was getting used to the punishment and her bruises and was learning to be resilient.

After ten days, she showed him her emotions.

Slade _adored_ that. He smirked behind his mask when he knocked her off her feet and she yelped, "Hey!" in an angry tone. He chuckled when he fought dirty and she shouted, "No fair!" like she was a little girl who'd been tagged back after calling no tag backs. Sometimes—and these were his favorite momens—she would look around and her eyes would light up. Not happily, not sadly, they would change from soft to hard to melancholy as she remembered something distantly.

He gave her food on the twelfth night and she devoured it. No matter how much food he fed her, Terra seemed unable to put weight on her emaciated form. As it was, she looked downright unhealthy.

The man asked her, "Terra, how much do you remember?"

The girl stopped eating at once, and pushed her food away from her delicately. She tapped the table and it rang like a musical instrument. Nervously she answered, "This sequence. You drag me out of bed, you make me eat, you kick my ass, you make me eat, you make me shower."

She did not finish her list.

"And then what, Terra?" he prodded, leaning down slightly over his apprentice. Her hands connected in her lap and twisted around one another. "What comes after showering?"

"Bed," she breathed, shutting her eyes. "After showering I go to bed."

He placed a palm on her head and pet her gently, fingers weaving and combing her hair, the pads of his digits gently massaging her scalp. Slade leaned in farther, letting his other hand rest on her shoulder as he loomed over her. The fingers of his gloved hand slipped under her collar, but only far enough to rub her clavicle, to feel her begin to shake and tremble. If only he hadn't been wearing his gloves he could have felt her soft, soft skin...

"You were so close, dear child," he sighed. His breath made her hair move, and he smiled softly, looking down at her in the reflection on the table. How convenient that she had pushed all of her dishes away.

* * *

Her eyes opened slowly, and she saw their image on the table. Slade was smiling faintly, and she could feel the older man's hot breath on her head. For her part, Tara could not get her lungs to work, could not force herself to inhale or exhale. His grey eye seemed unfocused, but the moment he noticed her eyes were open, that changed and he locked gazes with her. That lone eye glowed with quiet amusement and mirth as the hand on her shoulder inched slightly lower into her shirt until she was terrified his large fingers would slip under her bra too.

Slade must had seen her fear, because his hand withdrew from her shirt and his fingers closed gently around her neck instead. Not squeezing, not applying pressure. But he was holding onto her, and his eye told her that he could hold onto her very tightly if he desired.

"What comes after showering, Terra?" he asked again, in exactly the same tone. He was a teacher gently nudging his prized student to remember the most important question on the test.

But Tara already remembered.

"F... f..." she began so softly she was almost inaudible.

"_Fucking_," he said for her. The word echoed down the subway tunnels dangerously, then echoed inside of the girl's head. Her master's voice was powerful, commanding, overwhelming. There was a hint of amusement and a trace of cruelty within. "_Fucking_ is what comes after your shower. And do you know what it is time for?"

"Sh-shower," she stammered.

"Good girl," he purred. "Go take a shower."

* * *

A/N: Yes this is going where you think it's going. Yes you should tell me how you feel in the form of a review.

Also, my apologies this chapter is short. Future edits may lengthen it slightly as they have lengthened other chapters in the past. Then again this is just for build-up.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: The chapter you've been waiting for, if your tastes mirror mine. If you're not up for explicit stuff, skip ahead. This is a long one, consider it an apology for your wait. All your reviews have been enormously appreciated thus far.

* * *

Slade grabbed his mask and snapped it back in place. He felt less guilty about grinning like a madman when he knew only his smirking eye would be visible, even when there was no one around him.

He listened to the girl shower for twenty minutes before he shut off the hot water heater and heard her yelp at the cold through the door. "Time to get out Terra," he told her, tapping the metal back of his glove against the door so it rang loudly. He stepped back and listened. She brushed her teeth so long he was afraid that her gums would be a bloody pulp when she left the bathroom, or that she would have somehow managed to file her teeth down to stumps.

But they were perfectly normal when she left the bathroom, thankfully. Terra emerged in one piece. She'd scrubbed herself pink to waste time in the shower and expend nervous energy and her hair was glowing. Slade smiled at her softly and hooked a finger under her chin to tilt her head up so she would have to look at him.

"Mm. You look good," he told her gently, his thumb stroking her chin.

She stammered as his eye bored into her, not knowing how to respond but knowing that it would be a horrid idea to say nothing, "Th-thanks."

The man let go of her face and put a hand on her back to guide her gently back to the bedroom. Terra walked like her legs were too heavy for her to lift.

"You need to relax, Terra," Slade said softly as he pushed her forward. With his hand on her back he could feel how her muscles had tensed up. "You've done this before."

"I know," she said bitterly. The man did not care for her tone.

He sighed as if he were exhausted, but he was never exhausted. When he rested, it was because he liked to do so, not because his body required it. He pushed the girl onto the bed hard enough to make her fall but gently enough not to disorient her. Terra tried to sit up, but he was already on top of her by then, and if she sat up her head would have bumped into his chest. "Relax," he purred to her. His hands grabbed her upper arms to pin her down and he spread her thighs with a knee, eventually moving between her legs.

"Please..." she breathed. "I don't want to."

"Shh," he hissed to her. His voice became barely more than a whisper as he promised her, "You'll enjoy this, Terra."

The girl whimpered. He squeezed her arms once, very tightly, to remind her of his strength, then let go. She knew better than to try to escape or, god help her, strike at him.

His fingers found the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it casually onto the floor. Terra started to protest, but Slade shushed her again. He leaned down closer to her, the girl's nose almost touching the front of his mask as his eye held her under its power. Both of his arms suddenly dove beneath her back, making her squeal and arch her spine to avoid his touch on instinct, meaning that her small breasts were soon pressed against his chest. Slade chuckled darkly at the young girl's fright, and took his time running his gloved fingers lightly up her spine. It took him less than a moment to unclasp her bra, but he savored the slow process of sliding the straps down from her shoulders half an inch at a time.

* * *

Tara's eyes were shut tight as she felt him work her bra slowly off of her. With her teeth gritted together she finally hissed, "Just do it already!" She spoke from anger and frustration, not considering the possible repercussions until he did as she had asked.

The masked man tore her bra form her and threw it to for the shadows to devour, leaving her torso bare before him. He looked it up and down and responed, "No."

Tara whimpered noisily when she felt Slade's thumb and forefinger close around her left nipple and begin to tug and pull at it.

Stupidly, she tried to grab his arm and make him stop, but his other hand caught both of her small fists in its grip, squeezing them. She was certain he meant to crush her hands, to break every bone in them and fracture them beyond repair, but he merely pinned them to the sheets above her head as she cried out.

She felt the cold metal of his mask brush her cheek, then her neck, and with each of his breaths there came a heavy rush of steam from the four vertical slits in front of his mouth. "Oh, dear child, I have missed this quite a lot more than I am wont to let on..."

A few tears slipped out of Tara's eyes, and Slade took a break from toying with her nippe to wipe them from her face.

"No tears, Terra. You used to enjoy this," Slade purred. When he was done wiping her cheeks, his hand did not return to her chest, but rather his fingers hooked into her waistline, short pants and panties both, and he began pulling them down slowly. His voice grew threatening and he hissed, "Don't you dare cry, Terra."

* * *

Tara resisted him as he tried to pull her shorts down, but in a flurry of movement she couldn't follow, Slade rearranged her body and pinned her, now face down, to the mattress with him at her side. He pulled her pants off of her, leaving the poor girl entirely naked at his mercy. "Such a pretty girl you are, Terra... even with all these bruises from your training you still seem to shine."

She finally let loose a sob into the blankets, letting her tears fall into the sheets. She felt Slade's hand slide down her back, lingering in the lowest point of the curve of her spine before moving down to her rear, then to one of her thighs. When he heard her sob she felt his gloved hand grab her skull tightly as if he meant to crush it like an egg and he pressed her face into the pillows.

She couldn't breathe. She flailed but he fought her and won.

She. Couldn't. Breathe.

Slade was silent for an eternity, and then she heard him say, "I said no crying, Terra. And I meant it."

He flipped her onto her back once more, and he spread her legs and pushed his way between them while she gasped for air. He smirked down at her with his eye and removed one of his gloves. In a moment Tara felt his thumb press against her clitoris. She bucked and squirmed, but Slade was prepared for that, and his hand wrapped around her neck and squeezed softly to hold her in place. The man leaned over her again, and as he pushed his large index finger inside of her soft wetness.

"You used to _love_ when we did this, Terra," he taunted her, but Tara could have sworn she heard something like wistfulness in his voice. Soon the masked man's voice became louder to counteract the noises that were passing from Tara's lips as his index finger found the sweet spot within her and rubbed it. It felt so _good_, so _perfect_, and Tara hated every moment of it. "You used to rush through dinner and your shower to get to my bed. I've never seen a girl more eager."

* * *

She moaned under him. It was like music for him to loom over the girl, her body writhing because he, her captor, her master, forced her to enjoy it. It made him rock hard.

Terra's breathing became ragged, and he knew what that meant. He slowed his touching, lowered the pressure. "You're close," he purred. "So close, dear child, so close. And right now you hate me for pinning you down and touching you so _inhumanely_, but the longer I do this, the longer I hold you on the edge, the more you'll find you hate me for not getting it over with and just _fucking_ you."

His apprentice moaned, unable to give a coherent response. "Slade," she panted, looking up at him. Her eyes were red but she had learned her lesson not to cry, and he was perversely proud of her for that.

"What is it, my dear?" he cooed to her. He loved watching his breath make her hair fly about her head.

"Slade," she repeated as he kept her on the brink of her orgasm.

"Say the words, dear child," he hissed.

She bucked her hips and squirmed, pretending to try to evade him. He knew better. She wanted his fingers to slip up so she could cum. But Slade never slipped up, and there was nothing she could do. After a few moments of her looking at him, she whimpered, "Just do it."

The villain smirked. "Say please."

"Slade—!"

"_Say it_."

"P-please, Slade, this is cruel... just get it over with... just do it... please," she choked out.

"Of course, Terra," he replied, and with deftness and ease that had come from months of practice on her body, he made her cum. He could have kept doing it if he liked, could have pinned her and made her keep on cumming until she passed, out, but as much as he enjoyed forcing his apprentice to feel things she did not want to feel, he had needs.

While she was dazed and he saw stars in her eyes, he unzipped his pants and freed his erection. Unceremoniously he penetrated her and was pleased that she did not scream, she only moaned as he stretched her wet tunnel. "Good girl."

Slade never bothered to remove his armor or his clothing, and as he leaned over Terra's small body and began to thrust roughly. One of his arms snaked under her back to press her chest against his, and he felt her nipples through his shirt.

* * *

He was not gentle with her, not in the least. Slade rammed into her forcefully and she pleaded with him to slow down, to not hold her so tightly. The most he let her do was shift her hips so she was more comfortable. Any other movements she tried to make, the masked man would grab her arm, her wrist, her neck, her hip and squeeze very tightly until she relented. He looked at her smugly as he thrust into her again and again. They both knew he'd won.

After some time he lost a shred of his composure when Tara heard a deep groan vibrate from somewhere deep in his throat. "You're tighter than I remember," he said, both complimenting and teasing her simultaneously.

Tara moaned and squeaked in response. "Slade!" she cried out, but her voice was quiet. She half expected him to strike her if she made too much noice.

His hot breath beat down on her ear as he continued to pound into her again and again, and although he was working quickly and she could feel his muscles tense, his breathing was steady as if he were doing nothing more than reading a book. "No need to silence yourself my dear."

The villain's words meant almost nothing in her ear. "It hurts," she cried a bit more loudly.

"And it will continue to do so until your cunt is fully reacquainted with my cock," he replied, and she felt him push into her exceptionally hard and fast to make her whimper. "You'll be used to it again in a few days, and then you'll be begging for me all over again like you always did..."

She was getting close again, and she felt it. Her body kept wanting to come to life and follow Slade's lead, but Tara tried her hardest to keep it in check.

The girl was failing, and she was failing miserably. She felt her master inhale. Could he smell her feelings? It wasn't the first time she had wondered that.

"This time, scream for me," he instructed. His hands on her hips held so tightly they bruised, and now he brought one of those hands up to her chin.

Tara gave him a concerned look, her eyes wide and red, but she held her tears in.

"Terra, if you don't do as I tell you and scream for me, I will _make_ you scream, am I understood?"

She came first. She screamed. He came second and growled like a lion as he did so.

* * *

On the street, a green dog could have sworn he heard a frightened girl in the distance, and his hackles stood on end for the rest of the evening, though he was almost certain it had only been in his imagination.

* * *

A/N: Alright, give me your thoughts that I may improve my craft. The more detailed the review, the better, and they make it much easier to keep going with this project. Anonymous reviews enabled.


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